


Him

by Smutmaker_heartbreaker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars - The Last Jedi - Fandom, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Last Jedi
Genre: F/M, Force Bond, The Last Jedi Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 04:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13092408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutmaker_heartbreaker/pseuds/Smutmaker_heartbreaker
Summary: She doesn’t know what to call him anymore, so she decides not to call him anything at all.Post-TLJ reylo.





	Him

She doesn’t know what to call him anymore, so she decides not to call him anything at all.

I

She always feels his presence. Sometimes, he’s nothing but a ghost in the back of her mind, a consciousness swiftly grazing hers before fading back into the darkness it came from. Other times, it’s like he’s standing right in front of her. His scar is slowly healing, but the circles under his eyes keep getting darker. Under his command, the First Order’s army has rampaged through the Outer Rim in search of the last remains of the Resistance, leaving dead bodies and scorched villages in its wake. He’s a merciless leader, feared by enemies and subjects alike.

He trusts no one. No one trusts him either.

Sometimes, their eyes meet. It’s been weeks, yet the feelings of betrayal written on his face haven’t faded at all. The expression she sends him back is probably fairly similar.

What they shared was a cursed bond built on naivety and false pretenses, but no matter how much she tries to deny it, she still misses the man who comforted her when she needed it the most—the man who truly understood what it was like to be lonely.

II

She sees him swing his crackling lightsaber with powerful movements, destroying anything—and anyone—that gets in his way. Months have passed, but he’s still no closer to finding the Resistance survivors. She hates watching these outbursts, but she doesn’t really have a choice. He’s difficult to ignore when he’s like this.

He notices her and sends her a glare that makes her shudder. Their connection slams shut, and then she’s all alone again.

Except she’s not. She’s not alone. Not anymore. She’s on a base full of friendly Resistance fighters, and Finn lives in the room next to hers. There’s no reason for her to feel lonely. None at all.

And yet, the feeling of emptiness still remains until she senses the faint flicker of a familiar presence in the back of her head.

III

One time, he shows up right when she’s getting dressed. At first, he looks about as shocked as she feels, but then a smug little smirk tugs at his lips. Her blood rushes to her cheeks, and she lets out an undignified shriek.

The boot she throws at him passes straight through him and breaks the mirror on the wall. The bastard is still smirking when his image disappears.

IV

He would have been easier to hate if it weren’t for the pain.

She feels it through the bond sometimes. Just a fraction of it, but more than enough. The faint glimmer of light within him refuses to fade, and the harder he tries to kill it, the more he tears himself apart. He’s become the monster he always pretended to be, a dark shadow looming over the entire galaxy, but he’s still in pain—so much pain she can’t even begin to understand how he’s been able to endure it for all these years.

There’s something terribly wrong with him, that’s for sure, but people made him this way. To Han and Master Luke, he had too much Vader in him. To Snoke, he never had enough. Together, these role models and father figures created the monster called Kylo Ren. All three of them are gone now, but the scars they left in his soul will never heal.

She watches him suffer from afar. The need to reach out to him is nearly unbearable at times, but she can’t allow herself to feel sorry for him. After everything he’s done, he doesn’t deserve her compassion.

But he would have been easier to hate if it weren’t for the pain.

V

The longing in his eyes keeps getting more prominent.

She prays it’s not as obvious in hers.

VI

The Resistance base has become her home. She makes her living as a mechanic—fixing the type of things she used to break apart back on Jakku. On her spare time, she trains. She trains until her tunic is soaked in sweat and the calluses on her hands bleeds. Everyone around her expects her to live up to Master Luke’s legacy, to become the Jedi knight they all so desperately need. So she trains. She trains, and trains, and trains, because she’s seen what _he_ can do. She’s seen him bend the force to his will with the flick of a finger. She’s seen the way he swings his crossguarded lightsaber when he truly wants to kill. The Resistance thinks of her as their trump card—a Jedi, powerful enough to defeat the infamous Kylo Ren in a one-on-one battle. She’s not, though. Not yet. So she trains. She trains, and trains, and trains.

Sometimes, a presence joins her as she practices her techniques. With a nudge here and a tug there, it gently adjusts her stance. It’s not the ghost of Master Luke that’s guiding her, but she likes to pretend it is. It’s easier that way.

VII

The First Order keeps gaining ground in the Outer Rim. The resume of Supreme Leader Kylo Ren consists of nothing but victories. He is, without a doubt, the most powerful being in the galaxy.

It’s strange, she thinks, how a man who’s supposedly accomplishing everything he ever dreamed of can be so undeniably miserable.

VIII

The first time he tries to talk to her, she pulls out her blaster and shoots the projection of him in its face.

IX

Sometimes, he exhales her name as if it were a prayer. Other times, he spits it out as if it were a curse. She answers his calls with silence.

X

One day, he catches her off guard. She’s abruptly jerked backwards until her back slams into something solid. She yelps in surprise and reaches for the lightsaber attached to her belt, but before she can grab it, her wrists are caught by gloved hands and pinned to her chest.

“Rey.”

His voice is hoarse in her ear. She flinches, but with her back pressed against his broad chest and his arms wrapped around her she’s not moving an inch. His hands are like manacles around her wrists. She struggles for a moment, but although his grip is surprisingly gentle, it’s also completely unyielding.

“Let me go,” she finally says. “You can’t just show up and expect me to—”

“I’m tired, Rey.”

He is. She feels his exhaustion as clearly as if it had been her own. He clings to her like she’s the only thing keeping him from drowning. She should be scared, being trapped in the arms of a man who’s supposed to be her enemy, but she’s not. Being near him again after all this time is like taking a deep breath after ages of suffocation.

He releases her wrists. She spins around. He’s so close she has to tilt her head back to look at him. He stands motionless, breathless, waiting for her to make a move.

The fear of rejection in his eyes breaks her heart all over again.

“You don’t get to do this,” she says, her vision blurring. “Not now. Not after everything you’ve done.”  

 “I did what I thought was right.”

She clenches her fists, barely resisting the urge to reach for her lightsaber again. “You thought wrong.”

“Yes, I did,” he murmurs, and then he’s gone.

His disappointment lingers in her room for days. Her reawakened feelings of loss linger even longer.

XI

The distance between them is shrinking. He’s there when she trains. He’s there when she cries. He’s there when the loneliness keeps her up at night, holding her until the void within her stops aching. He ripped a hole in her defense, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

She doesn’t know if she _wants_ to fix it.

Nothing’s quite as addictive as a true sense of belonging.

XII

During one of his more unstable days, she watches him scream his lungs out and point his lightsaber at a poor maintenance worker, whose only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Later that night, she finds out that their force bond does in fact allow her to pour a bucket of water over his head while he sleeps.

XIII

She watches him as he cleans his wounds from yet another battle. He rarely fights against enemies of the First Order anymore. Most of the time, when she catches him patching himself up like that, the wounds were caused by people he considered allies.

“Is this really what you wanted?” she asks. “Is this the new order you gave up everything for?”

He shoots her a quick glare. “You know it’s not.”

She knows. She knows he didn’t kill his master to become the Supreme Leader. She knows he never intended to become the sole ruler of the galaxy.

She knows he never would have done any of it if it weren’t for her.  

“The path you’re taking will never lead you to the balance you’re searching for,” she says. “It will only lead to pain and suffering.”  

His face hardens. “I made my choice. I’ve become who I was meant to be.” He turns away. “There’s no going back.”

Months ago, she would have agreed. Now, she’s not so sure.

XIV

When the First Order burns down a village of innocents, she refuses to interact with him for weeks. After that, the mindless massacres mysteriously stop.

It’s the first time she hears him utter the words, “I’m sorry.”

XV

She slowly raises her hand. Fear flashes in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop her. They both hold their breath as she reaches up and carefully cups his cheek in her hand. Warmth washes over her the moment her skin connects with his. A soft laugh escapes her lips. She sees it again, the vision of their future, but this time, she understands.

“What do you see?” he whispers.

“Us”, she says. “Just us.”

XVI

Sometimes, she wonders what Finn would say if he knew.

She wonders if he’d ever forgive her.

XVII

When she presses her lips against his for the first time, the tiny little impulse immediately turns into a massive, unstoppable tidal wave. Her kiss is soft and innocent. His is not.

Her back hits the wall. For a short moment, she wonders how this looks on his side of the connection, but then his hands are in her hair and his lips are on hers. He barely gives her room to breathe, but she decides that she doesn’t really care. He grabs her thighs and lifts her up as if she weighs nothing. His pupils are dilated, and his gaze is so possessive it’s almost predatory. He’ll never let her go after this, she realizes. To him, she’ll always be his.

It doesn’t scare her all that much. After all, he’s already hers.

XVIII

Without warning, the Supreme Leader of the First Order disappears without a trace.

The power vacuum rips the entire organization into pieces.

XIX

His name, she decides, is Ben.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Did this fic end up like this because #poetry or because I personally can't decide which name to use either? I guess we'll never know.


End file.
